Chapter 3

The weekend arrived faster than I expected, bringing with it Jake Miller's lakeside party—an event I would normally have dreaded but now viewed as the perfect testing ground for my newfound resolve.

I stood at the edge of the crowded deck overlooking Lake Washington, nursing a cup of sparkling water while watching the sunset paint the sky in shades of orange and pink. The beauty was lost on most of the seniors who milled about, already tipsy and loud, celebrating their imminent freedom from high school.

Across the deck, Ethan and Madison had positioned themselves center stage, as always. His arm was wrapped possessively around her waist, his fingers playing with the hem of her designer top. Every few minutes, she would throw her head back in exaggerated laughter at something he whispered, making sure everyone—especially me—noticed their perfect couple routine.

"You actually came," a voice said beside me. I turned to find Jake Miller, red cup in hand, eyeing me with amused surprise. "Thought you'd be home studying for some test three months away."

"Even I need a break sometimes," I replied with a small smile, pushing my glasses up. "Great party."

He snorted. "Whatever. Just don't weird everyone out by being...you know...you."

As he wandered off, I caught Ethan watching me. Our eyes met briefly before Madison tugged him closer, whispering something that made him smirk. They began making their way toward me, moving through the crowd like royalty expecting the masses to part.

"Chloe Parker at a party," Madison drawled when they reached me. "Did hell freeze over?"

I smiled pleasantly. "Just enjoying senior year while it lasts."

"Right," Ethan said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Heard you talked to my mom the other day."

Before I could respond, Madison's hand jerked, and suddenly cold, sticky fruit punch was cascading down the front of my white blouse.

"Oh my God," she gasped, her eyes wide with mock horror. "I'm so clumsy! Your poor shirt!"

The deck fell silent. All eyes turned to us—to me—waiting for the inevitable tears or stammered apologies that had always been my response to their cruelty.

Instead, I looked down at my stained blouse, then back up at Madison with a serene smile.

"That's a beautiful dress," I said, my voice clear and steady. "Valentino, right? The craftsmanship is exquisite."

Madison blinked, her triumphant smirk faltering. "I—what?"

"The dress," I repeated, still smiling. "It suits you perfectly. Anyway, I should go clean up. Enjoy the party."

I walked away, feeling their stunned silence like a physical force at my back. For the first time in years, I had gone off-script, and they didn't know how to respond.

It was a small victory, but it fueled me through the following week, right up to my Friday evening shift at Elliot's, one of Seattle's trendiest waterfront restaurants. I'd been working there part-time since junior year, saving money I didn't need but enjoying the independence it gave me. My parents had never understood why their daughter wanted to wait tables, but they hadn't objected either.

I was arranging silverware at a window table when I saw them walk in—Ethan and Madison, dressed impeccably for what was clearly a date night. My stomach tightened, but I kept my face neutral as the hostess led them directly to my section.

"Well, look who it is," Madison said loudly as I approached their table. "Chloe Parker, from valedictorian to waitress. How inspiring."

Ethan leaned back in his chair, watching me with that familiar smirk. "We'll need a better table. This one's too close to the kitchen."

"I'm sorry, but we're fully booked tonight," I replied professionally. "Can I start you with some drinks?"

What followed was an hour of deliberate torment. They changed their orders multiple times, sent back perfectly prepared dishes, and made loud comments about the service that had nearby diners glancing over in disapproval.

"The salmon is too pink," Madison complained, barely having tasted it. "And these vegetables are practically raw."

"I'll take care of it right away," I said, collecting their plates. But instead of heading to the kitchen, I made a detour to the manager's station.

When I returned, I was carrying a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket.

"What's this?" Ethan demanded. "We didn't order champagne."

"It's part of our VIP dining experience that you requested," I explained smoothly. "Along with the premium seafood tower, special chef's dessert selection, and private sommelier consultation. It's one of our most exclusive packages."

Madison's eyes widened. "We didn't request any package."

"That's strange," I said, frowning slightly. "It's already been added to your bill. The total comes to just over five hundred dollars, before gratuity."

The color drained from Ethan's face. "Five hundred—? There's been a mistake."

"I can call the manager if you'd like," I offered helpfully.

Ten minutes later, I watched from the service station as Ethan argued frantically with my manager, who kept insisting that the upgrade had been confirmed when they were seated. Madison sat alone at their table, her perfect makeup unable to hide her mortification as nearby diners whispered and stared.

As I turned away to hide my smile, my phone vibrated in my pocket. A text from an unknown number: "I saw what you did. Impressive. Coffee tomorrow? —Ryan Chen"

I stared at the message, wondering who had been watching, and what else they might have seen.